Cracked to the Core
by CrimsonBludger83
Summary: "I think I have an issue with rules, to me, nothing says time to party like young, fit, and overpaid." When will Scorpius learn to expected the unexpected, when he sees his enemy yet again, one he thought he was rid of forever.


**Authors Note: This is my very first fanfic so i would love any and all criticism as long as its constructive, i am rating this T because of swearing etc... but if i do decide to continue this (i'm not sure yet, i might just leave it) i might end up changing the rating to M. please let me know what you think, i am eager for your comments :)**

**Disclaimer: i dot not own this J.K.R. does i just like to mess with her characters (she left so much room)**

**Cracked to the Core**

I think I have an issue with rules, to me, nothing says time to party like young, fit, and overpaid. I thought as I slowly make my way through the masses of tipsy club goers, being 18, male, and living in England definitely has its advantages.

I make my way through the rowdy crowd, couples scattered in dark corners, on the dance floor, and people flirting at the bar. The place is hopping. My gaze lands on a bombshell redhead sitting at the bar with a petite raven haired girl, they're chatting animatedly, cocktails clasped loosely in their hands. I make my way over, my eyes raking over the redhead I'll be pursuing tonight. She has auburn colored locks falling in ringlets around her heart- shaped face, a figure most girls would die for, and lively sapphire eyes, she seems vaguely familiar. As I make my way over her smoldering gaze meets mine. I stop. I thought I would've recognized that face anywhere; it was Rose Weasley _(i know right, oh shit)_ back from Hogwarts, unbelievable.

A million different thoughts were racing through my mind as I stood in the middle of a raging crowd, unmoving, her steady gaze was on me, anger flashing in her piercing blue eyes. Her stare startled me, so I bolted, but she wasn't one to let me get away that easily.

_Hate. Love. Blurred lines. Forbidden fruit. Tears. _Memories were flashing rapidly behind my eyes as I made my getaway. _Ughh… I need another drink_; I quickly throw my body towards the swinging doorway of the men's restroom, the click of Ro's heels hot on my trail.

The door slams shut, I lean my back roughly against the solid wood paneled door, turning around and locking it as soon as my shaky body allowed. Thankfully the room was empty. I let my breathing and racing heartbeat steady, trying to calm down.

"Oh bollocks, that was close," I wheeze out quietly, to myself, and then I lean back and remember.

I remember the swish of her frizzy, unruly, chaos of curls in first year. I remember her slightly blemished and sunburned skin in third right after summer holiday. I remember the way we used to taunt each other, the way we did anything we could to get a rise out of one another. I remember how the taunts, quips, and insults from third year and below changed into dirty innuendos and subtle flirting in fifth year and beyond, malice still hidden in the words, sarcasm still heavily lacing every conversation we had. I remember the way I thought I hated her, the way she hurt me, ruined me. I remember everything.

In Hogwarts people rarely read between the lines so when they saw me looking at Rose all they saw was the mask I put up, the mask of pure undiluted hatred I had so meticulously constructed. They thought nothing of it because to them I have always, and will always hate her, just like I did in elementary school. They never saw my hidden love for her; it was almost too easy to hide, because even the thought of me loving her would have been foreign to them, forbidden on their tongues. I was never supposed to love her, I was always supposed to hate her,_ so why couldn't I?_

They all saw the hate, the hate they expected, the hate I created that was fake, deceptive, and untrue, and although untruthful the hate I had for her was still very real, it wasn't hate I had for her, not exactly, it was hate I had for where she came from, it was hate I had for how opposite of me she was, it was hate I had for the fact that she would never love me the way I loved her So since I couldn't get close to her in an intimate way, as I so desperately wanted to, I got close to her in the only other way I knew how, I made her life hell.

She brought out the writhing, burning, undeniable hatred from my very core. Hate is a strong word and I know that, but I felt that hate is what she brought out in me, pure undiluted loathing, I always thought it had to be.

I hated her damn Weasley hair.

I hated her body.

I hated her fucked up kindness.

I hated her laugh.

I hated her damn purity.

I hated her cobalt colored eyes.

I hated her freckles.

I thought I hated everything about her.

But I was still completely and utterly head-over-heals in love with her. I knew that part of me would never stop loving her, and I knew that there was absolutely nothing I could do about it, no matter how hard I might have tried.

I hated that she smiled at everyone but me.

I hated that she never said my first name, like saying it would've scorched her lips, like acid.

I hated that for someone so clever she couldn't see what was right in front of her.

I hated that she wouldn't talk to me unless she was spitting out insults. _Although I suppose I brought that upon myself._

I hated that I could never make her truly laugh, unless she was laughing at any pain I was in.

I hated that she never even tried to look beyond my mask.

Falling in love with her was, exactly that: falling, the easiest and hardest thing I had ever done. Easy because I had no control over it; easy because every time she so much as looked at me I felt my stomach tie in seemingly unbreakable knots. Easy because whenever she laughed, a light hearty chuckle, I felt my lips twitch upward in appreciation of the sound. Hard because it could never be a normal relationship; I could never walk over to her in class, flirt, tease, and joke with her endlessly _(she'd probably slap me)._ Hard because the people we care about the most would never approve of our relationship. Hard because we both have a temper, are both incredibly stubborn, and any relationship between us would have been doomed a failure from the start.

This love for her was difficult because no matter what I couldn't have stopped it, even if I had known it was happening at the time, I hadn't wanted to fall for her, but when I started I couldn't stop falling, and I knew that If she didn't catch me I would fall and land with a huge ugly crack in my heart because she would have been missing from it.

And I hated her for that.

I hated that she was too stubborn and loyal for her own good.

I hated that when I saw her sit down in class and daydream, I couldn't help but wonder if she thought of me.

I hated that she was the cause of the painful everlasting ache in my heart.

I hated that she didn't even realize that she has this unreal beauty that radiated off of her like sunshine.

I hated that she had this contagious personality, a personality that grabbed my attention whenever she walked by.

But the thing that I hated her for more than anything, the thing that made me so angry at her for having caused, the one thing that I will never forgive her for is…

For making me cry, for making me love her, and for making it so hard for me to just let her go, which is why when I saw her in the club that evening it all came crashing down around me and the heart I thought was already cracked to the core, cracked even more.


End file.
